


with roots that reach out (for the sea)

by blackkat



Series: in dreams you follow (but I dream in the dark) [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki!Kiba, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deidara's hate-boner for Itachi, Everybody Swears A Lot, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Obito is a troll, Sasori is also lowkey a troll, he only appears for about .2 seconds and he's still a troll, it's Hidan what do you expect?, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: "So," Kiba asks, "what's up with the creepy asshole in the basement?"Deidara blinks, caught off guard, but before he can say anything Hidan huffs. “Basement?” he demands. “What fucking basement?”





	with roots that reach out (for the sea)

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt that a lovely anon left on my Tumblr, which got slightly out of hand. Again.

Deidara is so _fucking_ glad that he isn’t the baby of the group anymore.

It is, granted, slightly irritating to have his record as the youngest recruited Akatsuki member broken by a little shrimp who seems more puppy than human most of the time, and who is currently two days over thirteen, but Deidara’s spent the last year listening to infant jokes and he’s sick of it. Inuzuka, at least, is young and _looks_ it, enough so that he’s taken to playing the civilian child on missions when they need a decoy.

Deidara can barely remember being that age, honestly.

He keeps his eyes on his grilled mackerel, trying his best to ignore the rest of the table. For the most part they all eat what they want, when they want, but Kakuzu’s probably the only decent cook among them, and when he makes dinner it’s pretty much inevitable that everyone congregates. It’s aggravating, and Deidara hates having to see all of their faces, especially all at once, but there always comes a point when he’s so desperate for unburned food that he can bear it for the half hour it takes to eat.

The others are being especially annoying tonight, with the brat in their midst. Konan isn’t hovering,  not really, but she was the one to portion out the food and she made sure that Kiba got his first. It’s more than a little freaky, and Deidara wonders if it’s a biological clock thing. Not that he’s dumb enough to actually _say_ that, and despite how stupid some of the others can be, they're definitely not bringing it up either, outside of a few incredulous glances when Konan's back is turned.

Pein is the only one who doesn’t look bewildered about all of this, and Deidara is pretty sure that’s because he doesn’t have facial expressions to begin with.

Still, it would be easier to bolt his food down and ignore the others if they’d _stop being morons_ , Deidara thinks, bristling when Hidan knocks into him as he rants at Kakuzu about heathens. Kakuzu is pointedly looking the other direction, to where Pein is picking at his food, and there's a rant of his own brewing about wasting money on food that doesn’t even get eaten. Konan is an ocean of calm as she sips her tea, Zetsu laughing darkly at her elbow at something in the story he’s trying to tell a grinning Kisame and a stone-faced Itachi about a couple of prostitutes in Tani. Sasori keeps attempting to sneak glances at Kiba's notebook full of poison combinations, and the brat is at least aware enough to notice, if the way he hunches over the paper and growls is any indication.

Gods, Deidara hates _all of them_.

He’s working on the last of his rice, mind already on the figurines he wants to sculpt—explosive, of course—when there's an irritated snarl from across the table, and Kiba stuffs his notebook away in a jacket pocket before Sasori can get another look at it. With a dark glare at the puppeteer, he tugs his rice closer and demands, in a clear change of subject, “So what’s up with the creepy asshole in the basement?”

Deidara blinks, caught off guard, but before he can say anything Hidan huffs. “Basement?” he demands. “What fucking basement?”

“We don’t have a basement, un,” Deidara confirms, because that’s the kind of thing he would _know_ after a full year here. This is their main base, and Deidara has explored most of it.

“I'm more interested in the creepy asshole part,” Kisame says, laughing. “Hey Zetsu, you sure the kid didn’t run into you in the middle of the night?”

Zetsu makes a rude noise. “More likely that he ran into you or your creepy partner,” he retorts, and Itachi levels a dark look at him that doesn’t even make him blink.

Kiba rolls his eyes like they're all stupid, an edge of teeth showing behind his lips. Deidara’s met enough starving dogs to know that that expression isn’t supposed to be a smile. “You're really so stupid that you can't even find the basement? It’s three levels down and it fucking _reeks_ , okay. Smells like someone was tortured in there.”

A flicker of movement draws Deidara’s eye, just in time to see the wide smile returning to Zetsu’s face. There's a darkness to his gaze that wasn’t fully there before, but honestly, Deidara doesn’t want to know. Well, not about _that_ , at least.

“You're lying, un,” he snaps, glaring at the puppy. “We _don’t have_ a basement.”

Hidan stabs a finger at the younger boy, expression triumphant. “And if we did, why would _you_ have been the one to find it?”

Kiba eyes him like he’s especially stupid. “Because I'm not an idiot?” he repeats incredulously. “It’s not like I could _make up_ an entire sublevel, okay? There's a weird room with a throne and a bastard who likes to hide in the shadows and piss people off.”

“A _throne_?” Deidara has definitely never wandered into that level before, but that sounds so random and unexpected he can't help but be curious.

“Who the fuck would even have a throne in this trash heap?” Hidan wants to know. He eyes Kakuzu, who glares right back, clearly unamused by the implication.

“Made of gold?” is all Kakuzu asks.

“Wood,” Kiba corrects, and that’s slightly less interesting, though the sheer fact that there's a throne in a secret room on a hidden sublevel is enough to keep Deidara’s attention even so.

Clearly Hidan isn’t deterred by the plainness, either, if the way he’s shoving to his feet is any clue. “Show me,” he demands, planting his hands on the table. “If there’s a torture chamber, I want to see.”

Well, Deidara’s hardly about to let _Hidan_ beat him to seeing the supposed creepy throne, so he bolts up as well, ignoring the way his chair topples over with a crash. “Not without me, un! I bet it’s just a big chair in a dark room, and you're lying to make yourself seem cooler!”

Kiba snarls at both of them, though he glares at Deidara pointedly. “I'm not making it up! You're just pissed you didn’t find it on your own!”

Deidara glares right back. “I've been a member for a year, un! I know everything about this base!”

“You do not,” Kiba scoffs. “If you did you’d know exactly what I'm talking about—hey! Fuck you, put me the hell down, you bastard!”

Hidan hauls him bodily out of his chair, dangling by the back of his shirt, and ignores the kicks Kiba slams into his ribs. “Come on, heathen, we’re going exploring.”

Not to be outdone, Deidara follows at Hidan's heels as the older teenager stalks out of the kitchen, still carrying Kiba by the back of his coat. The rest of the group just watches them go, various shades of amused, but Deidara ignores them in favor of jabbing Kiba in the side and ordering, “You're going to show us, un!”

Kiba snaps his teeth at him, grabs for one of his long knives, and takes a swipe at Hidan's hand. Hidan jerks back—they all saw what those blades did to that one bounty Kiba and Konan dragged back last week, and even someone as immortal as Hidan would be wary of _that_ —and drops Kiba with a curse. The boy hits the ground on all fours, twists in a way that’s more like a dog than a human, and gets back to his feet in one sharp motion. In an instant his other knife is out, too, and he’s eyeing both of them like he’s ready to throw himself at them headlong, just for the sake of starting a fight.

“You could have just fucking _asked_ ,” he spits. “Keep your hands to yourself or you're going to lose your fingers, got it?”

Deidara can't help but grin. The puppy’s got teeth and spirit, and Deidara can appreciate that, especially in a brat. “We’re missing-nin,” he scoffs. “We don’t ask _permission_ , un. If you want manners, run back to your village, puppy.”

Something dark and furious slides across Kiba's face, and for an instant it takes effort for Deidara not to step back. It’s a stark reminder of the rumors Sasori passed on, the whispers of a man with a taste for young boys who was too powerful for Konoha to care. So powerful that the circumstances of his death didn’t matter, regardless of the whispers, so a twelve-year-old genin ended up a missing-nin for defending himself.

Deidara left Iwa for his own reasons, and he wasn’t forced out. But…Kiba's story, if it’s true—and he thinks it is, given just how angry Kiba seems all the time—is one that makes him unspeakably glad he abandoned his village. All the Hidden Villages are the same, and Deidara’s had enough experience with the old warhawks who make up the majority of the leadership to know that the same thing could easily have happened in Earth Country. They get away with whatever they want because of their age and status and service, and everyone else suffers for it.

He wonders how long Konoha turned a blind eye to what Danzō was doing, whether Kiba was the first, and then firmly shuts that line of thinking away. It’s not important. The man is most definitely dead, and Kiba is one of them now.

“I don’t have a village,” Kiba bites out, but with one more sharp look at Deidara he rocks back off the balls of his feet and shoves his knives into their sheathes, clearly recognizing that Deidara isn’t about to start anything. Deidara’s glad, because they have better things to do than teach the new puppy about the pecking order of the group.

“Well?” Hidan says impatiently, laying a hand over Kiba's head and shoving to urge him to move. It gets him a snarl, but surprisingly Kiba goes with it easily enough, turning off the main corridor that leads to the bedrooms and heading towards the training areas instead. Deidara’s never encountered much in the way of anything back there; beyond a series of empty, unused rooms, there's one section that looks like a gutted library, an extremely outdated lab, and lots of dusty passages.

Kiba doesn’t lead them towards any of those, though. He takes a sharp turn off the main hall and almost seems to vanish into the wall, and it’s only after a second of squinting that Deidara manages to spot the opening. He doesn’t want to be impressed, but he’s walked this way at least three times a week since he was recruited and he’s never noticed this passage before.

“Fuck,” Hidan mutters, clearly of the same opinion, and elbows Deidara out of the way to get through first. Deidara swears at him, but Pein's lectures on not using his bombs in the base—in the _underground_ base, and Deidara will never admit it, but he kind of had a point—are clear enough to keep him from grabbing for the explosives.

Only just, but still.

“How the hell did you see this?” he demands, and takes great pleasure shoving Hidan into the rough stone wall.

Hidan trips, catches himself, and turns with a snapped, “What the fuck was that, pretty boy?”

Deidara flips his hair over his shoulder, putting on a show of preening mostly because he knows it will drive Hidan insane. “I am pretty, aren’t I? I am the _prettiest_ boy, un. Thank you for noticing.”

Kiba laughs. It’s the first time Deidara has heard him make that sound, and it’s rough around the edges like he’s forgotten how, but it’s still genuine. When Deidara raises a brow at him, he’s grinning, more humor than teeth this time.

“You're a Yamanaka, aren’t you,” he tells Deidara. “No, don’t even try to tell me you're not, I won't believe anything else. That is _exactly_ what Ino does. Did.” He grimaces faintly at that, but doesn’t let his humor waver. “Right down to the hair thing.”

Yamanaka. Deidara scrounges through his memory, trying to pinpoint where he’s heard the name before. There's a vague sort of awareness that it’s one of Konoha's clans, a recollection of that old bastard Ōnoki complaining about them at least once, but otherwise he’s drawing a blank.

Kiba rolls his eyes, like it’s a _failing_ that Deidara can't call up knowledge of every shinobi clan by name. “Blond, gossipy, in love with the sound of their own voice? Usually staff T  & I because they're good at mental torture?”

That actually rings a bell. Deidara _definitely_ heard Ōnoki complaining about them and their ability to ferret out spies at one point. He opens his mouth to say as much when the rest of the description registers, and he squawks in offense, grabbing for his clay. Laughing like a donkey, Hidan snatches his wrists before he can get his hands on any, using the extra centimeters he has on Deidara to stay out of range of his kicks.

“Fucking _bastards_!” Deidara spits, jerks back hard, and kicks up, trying to get a leg over Hidan's arm to unbalance him. Sadly, he’s sparred with Hidan enough times for the other teenager to be well aware of his tricks, and Hidan spins them around, keeping Deidara hopping so he can't counter.

When they spin in that direction, Deidara can see that Kiba is watching them with amusement. Head tilted faintly to one side. It’s not the angry sort of teeth-bared humor Deidara has gotten used to from the kid, but something more genuine. “You guys are fucking weird,” is the brat’s verdict.

“Fuck off,” Hidan says, though without much heat. He grins at Deidara, and says mockingly, “Bombs to yourself, blondie, or Pein's going to give you his Disappointment Face again. Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

The bastard is conveniently forgetting that Pein's Disappointment Face cows everyone in the hideout except Konan, Deidara thinks sourly, and gives him a dark look as he stops wriggling with a huff. “Fucking _fine_ , but next time we’re on a mission together I'm going to stuff a grenade down your damned throat, asshole!”

Hidan grins like he’s looking forward to it, and lets Deidara go. Winding up, Deidara throws a quick, hard punch into the asshole’s ribs, then ducks back out of range and rounds on Kiba. “Well, un? Are we going or not?”

Kiba eyes them both for another moment, then shrugs. “Sure. Creepy hole in the ground, here we come.”

Scoffing, Hidan falls into step with Deidara, lazily crossing his arms behind his head. “You never answered the question, brat. How the hell did you know this was here?”

The look Kiba gives them might as well be subtitled _are you really that dumb_ , and it makes Deidara bristle right back. Ignoring that pointedly, Kiba makes a face, wrinkling his nose. “You really can't smell _anything_? It reeks like chemical death down here. There's a crack up to the next floor, and it’s seeping upwards. I just followed it.”

 _Huh_ , Deidara thinks, watching the boy slip through the shadows ahead of them. He’s heard that the Inuzuka are so close to their nin-dogs they might as well be canines themselves, but he hadn’t thought they actually _were_. “Inuzuka have good noses? I thought it was just your dogs, un.”

“Best in Fire Country,” Kiba says, lips pulling away from his teeth in a grin that’s equal parts pride and threat. A pause, and he huffs and admits, “Well, now that the Hatake aren’t a big clan anymore. But they're not like us anyway.”

Everyone in Iwa knows about the Hatake, and if he had an ounce more loyalty to his old village Deidara would spit. Hatake Sakumo was one of the main fighters in the Second Shinobi War, and Iwa’s never forgotten him _or_ his son.

Still, Deidara’s not an Iwa nin anymore, and he doesn’t give a damn about old grudges except when he can rub them in Ōnoki’s dumb old face. He ignores the flicker of old instinct to bristle, and instead asks, “Different, un? Like you're different kinds of dogs or something?”

Kiba makes a derisive sound. “What? No. The first Inuzuka was raised by feral dogs, and ended up way closer to a couple of summons than a normal summoning contract would let someone be. We’re like…half dog? Kind of? But in spirit, so not really.”

Clan bullshit, Deidara decides, rolling his eyes. Iwa had a couple of clans like that, too. Lots of mystical old legends and revered history and looking down on the clanless orphan whose biggest talent was blowing shit up in impressive ways.

“Thought Inuzuka never left their nin-dogs behind,” Hidan says, and his eyes are bright in the way they get when he’s hit on an opening in someone’s defenses that will let him go for the killing blow. He’s such an asshole, Deidara thinks, annoyed, and kicks him hard in the shin. Not that he _cares_ about upsetting the brat, but Konan might, and Konan is a hell of a lot scarier than Hidan no matter the circumstances.

And, predictably, all the humor disappears from Kiba's face like it’s been wiped away, leaving cold fury behind it. Deidara thinks he can catch a flash of grief in there was well, but it’s so deeply buried he can't be sure it’s not something else entirely. Kiba turns away, back stiff, shoulders set, and stalks down the corridor. “Yeah,” he bites out, not looking back at them. “They don’t.”

 _Knowing_ that Hidan isn’t done being a little bitch, Deidara grabs for a kunai, only to have Hidan slap a splayed hand over his face and shove him back. He yelps, tripping over an uneven patch of floor, and has to windmill his arms to stay upright. “Mother _fucker_ —”

“So where’s yours?” Hidan says, loudly enough to be heard over Deidara’s cursing.

Kiba gives him a look that’s somewhere between hostile and disbelieving, but he does come to a stop again, turning to face Hidan. There's an edge of teeth showing, but he’s not going for any throats, so Deidara fingers his kunai and plots his revenge. It’s going to involve lots of explosives and even more interrupted sleep for Hidan, he already knows that much.

“I left Akamaru in the village,” Kiba says, like he’s daring Hidan to make something of it. “He was a part of everything, and I didn’t fucking want him with me anymore.”

Truth, Deidara thinks, a little surprised by that. He can't see any trace of a lie in Kiba's expression, and the kid’s poker face is still pretty terrible. He really did abandon the nin-dog he was raised with in favor of getting the hell out of Konoha. Not that Deidara can blame him for that. Maybe Kiba feels that the dog played a part in his situation, and just…couldn’t deal with its presence anymore.

With a snort, Deidara hooks a foot around Hidan's ankle, slams a shoulder into his ribs, and knocks him over. The bigger man tries to retaliate, but Deidara is too quick, and he goes down with a loud curse, hitting the floor like the sack of shit he is. Deidara primly steps around his flailing limbs and passes Kiba. “I’m sick of talking about this crap. Where the fuck are we even going, un?”

Kiba snorts, and he leaves Hidan behind without so much as a backwards glance as the Jashinist hauls himself back to his feet. “Down. Just stay to the left and the hall will open right into the room. It’s—” He breaks off suddenly, frowning, and tilts his head. “Do you hear that?”

Deidara blinks, but goes silent, trying to pick out anything beyond Hidan's curses. “We’re S-rank criminals living in a secret base, un,” he points out. “People aren’t going to break in unless they're fucking stupid.”

“Since when has that ever stopped anyone?” Kiba mutters, which is a decent point. The kid shakes it off, though, turning back to the hall and quickening his steps.

“How the hell far down does this even _go_?” Hidan complains, catching up and casting a dirty look at Deidara, who smirks right back. “If you got lost, bitch—”

Kiba snarls. “Like fuck I'm lost! It’s not like that’s even _possible_ with how it reeks down here, but I can follow my own scent, okay, and I was just down here yesterday.”

Deidara still can't smell much of anything beyond the omnipresent scent of dirt and age, but he’s heard enough about Inuzuka noses that he isn’t going to dismiss Kiba's words. They might be criminals, but they're also S-rank, and Deidara likes to think that means a certain amount of intelligence.

Well, in most of them.

It’s getting darker the deeper they go down, the lights on the wall growing fewer and further between. The shadows stretch until light is less common than darkness, and Deidara feels a flicker of unease slide down his spine. Despite his words to Kiba about overreactions, he’s willing to admit—if only to himself—that the less traveled corners of the base can get pretty unnerving, and the dust down here is so thick Deidara can see the footprints from Kiba's first trip in every patch of light. It’s entirely silent beyond the sound of their steps, and Deidara has to fight the urge to pull his kunai back out.

“Feels like a fucking crypt,” is Hidan's verdict, muttered like even he is reluctant to break the hush completely.

“You’d know, bastard,” Deidara retorts, but his heart isn’t entirely in it. A glance back as they pass another light shows that Hidan is frowning, dark eyes flickering over the bare walls. He’s not carrying his scythe, but—

From behind them, there's a sound.

Deidara whirls, momentarily blinded by blond hair, and stares back the way they came with his heart beating a little too fast for composure. He holds his breath, listening, and not even Hidan says anything as he and Kiba both strain their ears as well.

After several long moments of nothing, Deidara lets out a slow, measured breath. “Fuck,” he mutters, because there's nothing, but he could have _sworn_ —

Kiba takes a deep breath, head tilted up to catch the faint flow of air down the passage, and Deidara can just make out the narrowing of his eyes in the gloom. Another breath, the sound of it clear, and Deidara shifts impatiently and demands, “Well? Do you fucking smell anything, dog boy?”

Kiba glares at him, though the expression is ruined a moment later when he sneezes. “You mean something besides cave and _death_? Not right now.”

Hidan scoffs, though he doesn’t look away from the passage leading back up. “Let’s fucking _go_. We’re here to see the torture chamber, not start twitching at shadows.”

That was _not_ a shadow, and Deidara is absolutely certain he did hear something. There's nothing obvious right now, though, so he mutters a threat at Hidan and reluctantly keeps walking. Even so, instead of looking forward he now has most of his attention on the way they came. The darkness feels a lot heavier than it did a moment ago, and Deidara doesn’t like it at all.

Creepy is an understatement down here, and mysterious thrones in forgotten rooms are rapidly losing their draw.

“Almost there,” Kiba says, like he can feel it too. Judging by the way his face is screwed up, the smell must be getting stronger.

Three steps around the next corner and suddenly it’s strong enough for Deidara to smell, too. Grimacing, he presses a hand over his nose. It’s not quite a death-smell, at least not to his nose, but it’s definitely reminiscent of rot and stagnant air. Rotting _what_ he couldn’t say, and doesn’t really want to know.

Somewhere down the tunnel, there's a thud. It’s quiet, like a sandal catching a lip of uneven stone in the floor, but the sound of it echoes clearly through the hall, and Deidara and Kiba both freeze. Hidan grabs for the scythe he isn’t carrying, aborts the movement with a curse, and a moment later abruptly stops himself as he reaches for a rock on the tunnel floor.

Normally Deidara would find this grounds for long-term mocking. Right at this second, though, all he does is grip the kunai in his hand a little tighter and try to remember just how much explosive clay he’s currently carrying. Not enough for his peace of mind, that’s for sure.

“This creepy guy,” Hidan says carefully. “Exactly how creepy are we talking here?”

Kiba's looking a little wild around the eyes. “On a scale of one to ten? A solid ‘deranged laughter in a dark room that smells like death’. Oh, and he vanished into thin air, too.”

“You guys are both pussies,” Hidan scoffs, though Deidara notices that _he’s_ not racing back the way they came to confront whatever’s there, either.

“I'm sorry, who’s the person who came _back down here_ voluntarily just because you assholes wanted to sightsee?” Kiba snaps, then spins on his heel and stalks determinedly towards where the tunnel branches right. There's practically no light beyond, and the shadows seem to swallow him whole in an instant.

There's no way in hell Deidara’s going to let a _puppy_ show him up. He hisses out a curse on Kiba's parentage and follows, making a face as he walks right into a wave of chemical-and-rot scent. This is really making him glad his nose isn’t any better, and from Hidan's quiet swearing he feels the same.

“At least,” Deidara mutters in an attempt to convince himself this was a good idea, “this is better than sitting there looking at that Uchiha bastard’s fucking _face_.”

Hidan cackles, loud in the silence and echoing off the walls. “Yeah, I bet you’d like to fuck his face, pretty boy.”

Surely, _surely_ Pein won't mind if Deidara blows Hidan up a little bit. Just partially. The asshole will put himself back together again eventually. Deidara closes his eyes and pictures it, the perfect art of one of his best explosions and Hidan's body parts going flying, the blood splatter, the _scream_ —

“I wouldn’t touch that fucking creep with a fucking _barge pole_ ,” he snarls, bristling. “He’s such a smug asshole and I _hate his guts_! And even if I _didn’t_ , he’s not that fucking pretty!”

“Itachi?” Kiba asks from the shadows right in front of them, and Deidara will deny to his dying day the way he practically levitates off the floor in surprise.

“Don’t fucking _do that_!” he screeches, rounding on the boy. “I'm going to fucking blow you into paste!”

Kiba looks entirely unimpressed, ignoring the threat completely. “What, is Sasori more your type?”

Deidara opens his mouth to deny it loudly, then pauses, considering. “Danna? Eh. He’s definitely pretty enough, un. I like sex, though, and Danna’s not into it. He’ll do the one-night thing sometimes, but it wouldn’t be enough for me.”

Hidan makes a thoughtful sound, and when Deidara glances over the Jashinist is eyeing him, assessing and vaguely interested.

Kiba takes one breath in Hidan's direction and recoils. “Ugh, fuck, keep you pheromones to yourself, asshole!”

Rolling his eyes, Hidan pushes past. “Fuck you, I'm not taking that from a brat who hasn’t even hit puberty yet.”

“I have _too_ hit puberty!” Kiba protests loudly, and his voice cracks halfway through.

Deidara snickers, nudging the kid on. He suddenly feels like maybe this whole thing isn’t a disaster after all. Hidan is an asshole, but he’s an attractive asshole, and if that look meant what Deidara thought it did—

Kiba grabs him by the back of his shirt just in time to keep him from tumbling over the edge of a short drop, and Deidara yelps, recoiling.

As soon as he’s on solid ground, he grabs the edge of the tunnel mouth, looking out over the wide cavern. There are massive roots strung throughout it, vague shadows in the darkness, and vague spots of light along the walls that don’t do much of anything except make the shadows darker. The whole thing abruptly brings the creepy factor back into focus, and instinct keeps Deidara’s voice low as he asks, “This is it?”

Kiba nods, leaping lightly down from the ledge to land on one of the roots. When Deidara follows him, he points towards the far wall and says, “That’s definitely a throne.”

It’s certainly not anything else, Deidara allows. A wide chair, grimly eerie in the darkness, with detached cables lying around the bottom, and the size of it would dwarf a normal man. Part of the aura of menace, Deidara assumes, and wonders who the hell would put something like that in a place like the Mountains’ Graveyard.

“Weird fucking place for a throne,” Hidan says, standing on a twisted root above them. He’s looking around with interest, and Deidara can just make out the glint of his pendant in the gloom.

Deidara snorts in agreement. “Not a lot of worshipful followers out here, un,” he agrees. It’s possible that Akatsuki should count, what with Pein, but like fuck Deidara is ever going to worship at _anyone’s_ feet.

“So you guys have never seen this place before?” Kiba asks. He jumps down, landing with a quiet thud on the floor, and straightens. “There's a bed over there.”

“Fucking _weird_ ,” Hidan repeats, hopping down to join Kiba. After a moment’s hesitation and a glance back at the mouth of the tunnel, Deidara follows. He’s just being paranoid, he tells himself. There's no way the tunnel will close on them, and even if it does, Deidara is from _Iwa_. He learned Doton jutsus before he learned to hold a kunai. _And_ he’s carrying explosives. There's nothing that could trap them down here.

“A throne and a bed on a pedestal?” he asks, and despite the thread of unease he can't help but feel amused. “Someone has delusions of grandeur, un.”

Kiba snorts. “Yeah, except it smells like someone was _tortured_ in here,” he reminds them. “I swear, T  & I in Konoha smells exactly like this.”

Deidara isn’t about to doubt the kid with the dog nose, because it’s already unpleasant enough for him without any enhanced senses.

“No torture implements,” Hidan points out, and he actually sounds disappointed about it.

“You don’t need implements to torture someone.” Kiba touches the hilt of one of his knives, mouth curling in what could be a snarl or a smile, and Deidara’s reminded again of the look on Sasori’s face when he mentioned the kid Pein and Konan had gone to recruit. Amusement, just a little, and something that might have been respect. Sasori’s fond of people who get results, especially when they use poison to do it, and whatever clan Kiba stole his formulas from is one Sasori has a lot of interest in. Those facts together mean Sasori objects to Kiba's existence less than he does to most people’s, and that alone would make Kiba scary, even without his age and what he’s already managed.

“True,” Hidan agrees, cheered. He takes a step towards the bed—

Footsteps.

Deidara stiffens, spinning to look for the source, but with the echo in here he can't pinpoint it. Kiba's also gone tense next to him, hunkered down like he’s about to spring forward on all fours, and Hidan's bristling as if he’s trying to make himself twice his normal size.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Deidara wants to know, though he keeps his voice down.

Kiba growls, low and rumbling. “I swear, if it’s that bastard skulking in the shadows again—”

A laugh, low and full of menace and entirely unexpected, _far too close_ , and Deidara shrieks. He’s somehow attached to Hidan's shoulder without even remembering moving, and the killing intent in the air is so heavy and thick, full of malice, that not even Hidan hesitates. He grabs Kiba by the furry collar of his coat and books it back towards the tunnel, clearing the roots in a chakra-propelled and adrenaline-fueled leap. When his feet hit the stone he stumbles once, but then he’s bolting towards the surface with Deidara clinging to his back like a monkey and Kiba flailing as he’s dragged along. They skid around a corner, almost crash into a wall, redirect, and—

A face, pale in the shadows and abruptly in front of them, and there's a chorus of shrieks and yells as Hidan trips over himself and they all go crashing to the ground in a heap. Deidara’s head bounces off the wall, Hidan lands on him and Kiba, and Kiba yelps, scrambling to get to his knives under the weight of Hidan's bulk even as the Jashinist flattens him completely.

Sasori just stares down at them, entirely emotionless, and then slowly raises one red brow.

“Danna,” Deidara wheezes, his heart currently moving at roughly the same speed as a hummingbird on methamphetamines. “Danna, _fuck you with a sharpened glaive_ , okay, un.”

It’s possible that Sasori’s mouth twitches. “If you're quite done?” is all he says, though.

“What are you even _doing here_?” Kiba demands, and as soon as Hidan pulls himself up he scrambles to his feet. “Besides laughing in the dark like some kind of _asshole_?”

Sasori blinks. “I wasn’t laughing,” he says mildly, “though your faces just now would make anyone want to.”

Oh gods. That is _not_ something Deidara needed to know. He turns, looking back the way they came, just as Hidan demands vehemently, “Then who the shitting fuck was _fucking down there_?”

“A mystery,” Sasori says, and that’s _definitely_ amused and just as definitely unappreciated. “Pein didn’t seem concerned, so I assume it’s something he knows about.”

“Fucking _hate you all_ ,” Kiba mutters, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Shit.”

There's a smirk growing on Sasori’s features. “I take it you found what you were looking for?”

That’s fucking _it_. Deidara stands up, brushes himself off with all the tattered dignity he has left, and stalks back towards the main part of the base. “I'm going to go blow shit up and if anyone fucking disturbs me, I'm turning them into art, un. Only warning.”

“Hey, pretty boy!” Hidan calls, but Deidara is _not in the mood_ , and he flips the bastard off without looking back and heads for his room at double-time.

Whoever was down there was absolutely fucking with them, and someday Deidara’s going to find out who it was and stuff a kilo of explosive clay _right down his fucking throat._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [with roots that reach out (for the sea) [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051790) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




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